The Gift of Time
by Silverblind
Summary: Shepard makes a deal with Zaeed; in this race against those that would see her people destroyed, he would help her stop time, for an hour or two. - One Shot - PWP -


**RELEVANT TAGS: **PWP, rough sex.

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Shepard was nothing if not committed.

She seemed to spend every waking moment labouring to bring them closer to their goal, every instant focused on the destruction of the empty shells the Protheans had become, the Omega 4 Relay beckoning day and night for the Commander and her team to enter its unknown depths. Cerberus had brought her back to save humanity; she would not give less to them than she had given the Alliance.

She hardly ever seemed to sleep, never truly calm, always up, always about, pacing around the bridge or the mess or the shuttle bay, quiet, watching.

She only truly came alive in the thick of a fight, when bullets whizzed past her head, dented her armour and left scratches on her visor. Then she seemed to wake from a long and deep slumber, barking orders, roaring in rage, grunting in effort, blood-spattered lips twitching in a smile. Her blood sang then as it never had before, and as few things could ever make it sing so high.

Some of the crew could not help but worry. Others knew they had nothing to fear, although no one knew it as well as Zaeed.

She always lingered behind in the shuttle bay after debriefings, lighting one of her rare cigarettes and checking her equipment for faults. Her hair would always be out of its usual braid, fresh and clean from the shower she always insisted on taking before meeting with anyone. She would be wearing a simple white tank top that displayed her powerful shoulders and the scarred flesh of her arms with her standard fatigues, or perhaps the formal wear she favoured aboard the Normandy.

He would always come to her in these moments of solitude, when even the mechanics had decided to climb up to the mess to grant the commander a bit of peace and quiet. Zaeed waited for the chattering mechanics to step into the elevator before leaving his rooms, only stepping in the hallway when he heard the door closing behind the last of them. It was a short walk from the starboard cargo to the shuttle bay, and he knew she never locked the door. It closed softly behind his back, too quiet to alert her as to his presence, although she probably knew he was here. Nevertheless, he was careful to let his footsteps ring loudly as he approached her. Bent over her work, her long, dark hair veiling her face from his eyes as she worked on a dent in her armour, she did not look up even as he stilled a few paces from her. She wore a simple white t-shirt and black fatigues, a faint bloodstain still visible on the fabric of her shirt just above her left hip, where an old wound had reopened when it was still fresh.

It was a moment before her hands stilled. He could see that the slope of her shoulders, stiff with tension, seemed to relax slightly at his presence. She pushed her armour away and kicked her stool aside as she stood, placing her hands on the work bench before her as she nodded imperceptibly.

It was all Zaeed needed to step forward and take a handful of her hair, jerking her head back roughly as he came to stand against her back. He heard her gasp and her teeth flashed, white, bright; a smile. Shoving a hand under her shirt, he all but ripped the bra from her small breasts and pinched a nipple, earning himself a hiss and a moan. Her skin seemed almost too warm to touch as he shifted his attention to her other breast, her chest rising and falling with every breath. The grip in her hair did not falter as he bent her over the work bench, the room silent but for her groans and his growl as he slipped his free hand from her shirt and into her fatigues, her thighs parting willingly as his hand slid over the curve of her backside before finding her centre, pulling the cloth of her underwear aside to trace a finger over her wet folds. She trembled in his grasp, a thin moan escaping her lips as her hands braced at the edge of the work bench, her eyes a feverish flash of green amidst the freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks.

He leaned over her and saw her smile again, her eyes flickering to him and her mouth opening to speak, but he had straightened again before she could will a single word from her throat.

The fingers he kept against her core were relentless, circling, caressing, teasing, but never touching her where she truly wanted. She knew better than to press against him to ask for contact. The rules of their encounters had been established long ago, and she knew them best.

The hand in her hair loosed suddenly, splattering dark locks across her cheek, and he pressed two fingers inside of her, exacting a low moan from her as she closed her eyes. He could feel her body tense under his palm as he put a hand to the nape of her neck, and he wanted nothing more, for a fleeting moment, than to bend down and steal a kiss from the lips he saw pressed into a thin line to prevent her from crying out in pleasure. But it was not what she wanted. It was not what she needed. So he laboured on, adding a third finger when she could no longer hold the cry she had been holding, instead smothering it in her own hand as her eyes fluttered open, meeting his gaze although it seemed to him that she could barely see him, silently pleading for him to give her what she wanted. And although Zaeed could feel himself pressing against the front of his trousers and would have liked nothing more than to bury himself within her, he refused to give in to her demand until, finally, he could feel her tighten around his fingers, and the ragged cry that ripped from her throat echoed in the empty shuttle bay.

He removed his hand as she shuddered against him, his fingers going to his belt and pants, freeing himself before he returned his attention to her. The cold air on his heated flesh made him hiss even as he yanked the fatigues down to her knees, exposing her to him. He saw her shiver before she stilled again, and he could feel her trembling impatiently from the hand he splayed across the small of her back. He waited for a moment at her entrance, her warmth beckoning him forward although he resisted the temptation until he saw her hands curl into fists at her side. Only then did he allow himself to enter her, in a single, smooth thrust that left the both of them panting. He did not pause for more than a heartbeat before setting a rhythm that shook Shepard with fiery waves of ecstasy, his hands gripping her hips so tightly they were sure to leave bruise. Her eyes slammed shut and he bent over her again, his hands covering hers now, keeping them in place as they raced toward their peak. She threw her head back, and he buried his face in the curve of her shoulder, torn between kissing it and biting it until he drew blood.

The choice was ripped from him, however, as he felt her tighten around him once more, and this time she was almost silent, a quiet gasp and a drawn-out moan all her heard before he whispered a curse and bucked against her, his peak overcoming him as well as he spilled inside her, his hand pressing hard against her shoulder as he straightened, growling low before he finally stilled.

The shuttle bay was as silent as it had been before his arrival. He stepped away from her almost immediately, tucking himself away before retreating slowly, leaving her to clean herself up and right her own clothes. Shepard listened as his footsteps paused before the door, hesitating for half a heartbeat before stepping through and leaving her to herself.

A part of her had almost wished for him to stay. Bu the terms of their agreement were clear, and after the mission was done, should they both survive, they would part ways, never to meet again.

It was what she needed, although every day her doubts grew as to whether it was what she wanted.


End file.
